Sunrise After the Storm
Dipper x Pacifica Night had fallen, and the stars had now littered the night sky. Exhausted, Pacifica propped herself against a tree and sat near one of its root. Looking through the blackness of the woods, she felt that she was in that half fugue state in between the waking world and the dream world. She generally felt this way when doing a late night homework assignment and would look out the window only to see one of the many strange creatures that roamed the town and would then question whether or not she had actually seen it the next morning, face down on her paper, breathing in the graphite from the pencil marks. This evening's imagery consisted of the swaying bushes, the twitching branches of the trees above, and sudden darting movement of various small nocturnal creatures. It was like looking at some sort of living Gustave Doré painting. She looked down and noticed an odd sight, a small black turtle crawling along her hand. She shook it off of her and turned her attention back to the woods. Through the darkness, she could see what looked like two glowing white orbs moving through the blackness. Squinting, she could see that they were attached to what looked like a humanoid head with deer antlers. In looking at the thing, her muscles tensed, and her blood froze in her veins. The creature then stood in the small alcove between the trees, roughly fifty yards from her, shifted in place, and looked directly into her eyes. She could see a slight color change in the eyes now, an off putting, cold blue iris with a menacing red pupil. There were words that seemed to ring through her now hindered, exhausted mind, saying, “I SEE YOU!” repeatedly. She did not shriek, but the snowy owl on the branch above shrieked for her, as it flew from its perch to go find a hapless, defenseless mouse that was no doubt crawling through the underbrush. After looking up to see the bird's flight, she turned her attention back to the grove, only to find the creature had gone. Did she imagine it? What she didn't imagine was the fact that her cell phone was ringing, a trite Sev'ral Timez song playing from it. She looked at the screen, and her heart froze for the second time this evening when she saw that it was her mother calling. Whether it was by instinct or by the desire to hear a familiar voice, even a hostile one, she answered the call. “Hello, mother,” Pacifica answered, an obvious nervousness and irritation in her voice. “Pacifica,” her mother answered, crossly, “Where the hell are you? Your father and I have looked all over the mansion for you when we didn't find you in your room.” “Mom,” Pacifica continued, finding a renewed resolve in her voice, “I'm going to need you to hear me out on this one. I...I'm going to the Pines house, and I may need to stay there for a little while.” “Ha, I knew it,” her mother said, “It's bad enough that they had to enter our home, bad mouth our name, and not fix the problem we requested of them, but now they have you running around in the pitch black of night to go try and join their weird little group.” “This is important,” Pacifica said, “They still may need my help. Something terrible is happening in this town, something far worse than any of the other oddities we've seen. Dipper has a lot of the backstory on this; he'll know-” “Are you doing this for that boy?” Her mom inquired, raising her voice, “I don't think you realize yet how stupid that is yet. You're twelve, so let me give you some early advice, my dearest daughter. Do NOT throw your world, your family, or your whole life away over some silly boy who hasn't even discovered who he is or what direction he's going to take. If you retain nothing else – if you choose to tune out all the other things your father and I have said over the past few days – please remember that much. Is this boy really worth running away from home? Are you really going through all this foolishness for him?” “No!” Pacifica exclaimed, terminating her mother's rambling, “No, I'm not doing it for him. Okay, yes, I think I like Dipper. He's cute, he's funny, he's very smart...And it took me a few months to see all of that in him...” she trailed off for a moment, but then caught herself and continued. “But that has nothing to do with why I'm doing this. Something big and terrible is about to happen to this town. You saw and felt it yourself a few hours ago when we lost our gravitational pull. And I feel, as a person of this earth, that I want to help fight it in whatever way I can. The reason I'm joining them is because they seem like the only ones who might have some answers as to how to stop it.” She paused to catch her breath. Her mother didn't respond. “And think about it like this,” Pacifica continued, “What I said last night, that our family name is broken and that I would fix it? I meant that. It's no secret that the public knows we have some skeletons in our closet, while not knowing specifically what. And since those red hooded guys disappeared, the paranormal weirdness of this town has become public knowledge as well. If they hear that a Northwest helped prevent this disaster, it could pull our name out of the mud. If I'm wrong, I'll take whatever punishment you and dad give me like the dutiful daughter I've always been, that is, if we all don't blow up from whatever this is. But if I'm right, and we're able to stop it, ours will be the first generation of Northwests to contribute something amazing to the public, the saving of the entire world. That's PR even our harshest critics can't combat. I saved dad's billionaire friends from a 150 year old curse. I imagine I can help take down some even greater monsters with the help of some experts.” Mrs. Northwest was dumbfounded, both with how unusual Pacifica's story was and with the fact that her twelve-year-old could talk like this. None of it seemed natural. But at that point, she turned her head to the ancient tapestry in the dining hall in which she was standing, mostly to monitor the clean up crew and make sure none of the “riffraff” had left a single token of their visit. She saw the triangle at the top of the flames, recognizing the piece as some archaic folklore regarding the all seeing evil spirit of the woods that promised to bring suffering and destruction to those who crossed him. She looked at the creature's eye, and for a moment, she thought it looked back at her. She did not turn away but chose to stare at it longer, perhaps recognizing that there may have been a part of it inside of her, a part she was afraid to admit was real and that she was unleashing on her child, the baby she had nursed, the little girl that ran through the empty halls looking for a playmate, the young lady whom they used Pavlov's method to control...treating her like a show dog, a status symbol, another doll they could display to the world. The flames within the tapestry began to move, the human effigies began to writhe, and the eye winked. Mrs. Northwest shook her head, and the vision faded. Then, she said something Pacifica thought she would never hear from her. “I'm sorry, Pacifica,” her mother said at long last, “Maybe it is time for us to begin trusting you. After all, you're our daughter; you must have a good head on your shoulders. Just...please stay safe. It may not seem like it, but I really do worry about your safety. I can't believe I'm even allowing this.” She groaned, but she knew that if she said no at this point, it would only add fuel to the fire, causing her daughter to hang up and then having to needlessly spend valuable man hours to track her down. At least she knew where she was, despite it being a complete dump she would never have allowed otherwise. “I'll tell your father that you're with some of your other friends, as I doubt he'd listen to either of us.” “Thanks, mom,” Pacifica said. “And daughter,” Mrs. Northwest continued, “Let me remind you again. You're a Northwest; don't fail or make me regret going along with this. You survive whatever this is, and you have my word that I'll personally invite your new friends to dinner. Now, how far are you from their house. I want to make sure you're safe this evening.” “About half a mile,” Pacifica said, “It's dark, but I still know the way.” “Very well,” Mrs. Northwest concluded, “Goodnight, dear.” “Goodnight, mom,” Pacifica said, ending the call. Pacifica looked back down at her phone and opened the pictures application. She looked through photos from last night, of her and her new friends actually enjoying each others company for a change. She shook her head, wishing she had never been so mean and terrible to them. They might not have been as refined as she was, but they were fun, carefree, and genuine. They were real. She looked up, let her eyes readjust to the darkness, and continued forward. She felt a cold breeze in the air and shivered. Despite it being the middle of summer, the night seemed cooler than usual. There was a storm coming. It was over an hour before she found the shack, but to her shock, it was not as she expected. The base of the property looks like it had sunk two feet into the ground, the wooden porch looked unhinged and disjointed, and the second half of the sign had cracked in half. Even the totem pole near the front of the house was now slightly off center, at roughly a 75 degree angle. This must have been due to the gravity loss, she thought, hoping everyone was alright. There seemed to be this strange blue glow that emanated from each of the windows, giving her that all too familiar feeling of unease. All the while, she could hear a faint sobbing. She looked at the porch and saw that it was Dipper making those sounds. The wind began to blow harder. There was almost an ethereal quality to it; between the eerie light, the cold breeze, and Dipper's anguish, it was like something from David Lynch's nightmares. The old Bobby Vinton song “Blue Velvet” rang in her head briefly. She slowly walked up to the ruined porch, where Dipper was sitting on the stairs, sobbing into his arms. Not knowing what to say, she broke the silence with a soft, concerned voice, saying, “Dipper? Are you okay?” What was this feeling of empathy? It felt novel to her, but she couldn't help it around him. “Pacifica, what are you doing here?” Dipper said, wiping his eyes as quickly as possible. A wave of panic washed over him, as he certainly did not want her to see him like this. For all intents and purposes, she was a new lady that had graced his life, and he did not want to show her his moment of weakness. “I came to help,” she said, “in whatever way I can. It seems like you need some right now. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?” “He lied to me,” Dipper said, his words seeming to echo from last night when he had said that to Pacifica. She caught herself from the strangeness and agitation of deja vu and replied, “Who?” “Stan,” he answered, “if we can even call him that anymore. He had the other journals the whole time, knew the author, and lied to us about what he was building in the basement.” “What was it?” Pacifica asked. “A dimensional portal to bring back his brother,” Dipper replied, “And as to why he couldn't just tell us about this in the first place, I have no idea. I could say I feel used and betrayed, but that's only scraping the tip of the iceberg.” “But if he wrote your weird books,” Pacifica asked, “doesn't that mean that he's on your side, that he's trying to help you defend yourself from more paranormal junk?” “I don't know,” Dipper answered, “One of the first principles I carried with me was what the third journal said, 'Trust no one!' And after what Gruncle Stan pulled tonight, I'm realizing that I've been doing too much trusting.” He buried his head in his arms again. “But I feel like if I begin distancing myself from him, I'll distance myself from Mabel, too. She trusted him as well and let the portal's timer finish. She just seems all too comfortable with this new stranger in our house. A few weeks ago, I would have had ten thousand questions for him. Now...I just don't know...” He trailed off and grew quite. Pacifica came up the stairs and sat beside him. She wrapped her arms around him and began rocking him back and forth. Dipper felt both a rush of nervousness and excitement as Pacifica had once again gotten close to him. Maybe last night wasn't a fluke and girls really did like him after all. And he did think Pacifica was cute, so the anxiousness wasn't going away anytime soon. What if he said the wrong thing or she grew tired of him or didn't like the way he breathed after she got to know him? All these “what ifs” swirled through his head, but at the same time, he didn't want her to let go and was enjoying the moment despite his current situation. The steady rocking of her arms gave him a comfort he had not felt in a long time. “Then there's a pair of us,” she said, “After last night, discovering how awful my family has been, I feel very distant from them. My mom might be able to see reason, but for the most part, I don't feel like I belong anymore. So, Dipper, you're not alone. You still have me, and as I said last night, you'll get no more lies from me.” As she continued to rock him for several more minutes, Mabel walked out of the screen door and saw the two of them. Pacifica looked up at her, still holding dipper, and gave her a look of loss and confusion, as if to say that she needed her help. For the first time in a very long time, Mabel did not know what to say. She sat down beside them and began rubbing her sobbing brother's shoulder, wishing she could do more for him. The wind continued to pick up, as well as a slight drizzle of rain. Pacifica though she could see someone off in the distance, standing between the trees. She squinted but couldn't quite make out what it was. Could it have been that same thing she had seen earlier that evening? “Woohoo,” Nate shouted as an engine roared up to the shack, “Gravity Falls is losin' gravity! The end of the world is near!” “Can't believe we get to see it,” Lee joked as the car stopped, “We made it, Wendy.” “Great,” Wendy said, getting out along with the rest of her friends, “We've got to make sure my work family is okay.” She wandered over to the porch, Robbie, Tambry, Lee, and Nate following closely behind while Thompson locked the car. Mabel and Pacifica looked up at her. “Okay, mind filling me in on what happened,” Wendy asked, “why the sour faces, and what the hell happened to Dipper?” Just then, Soos emerged from the doorway. “Wendy,” he said, “You're here; great. There are two Stans now, and...” He looked down at the kids sitting on the porch and saw the proverbial aura of unhappiness around them. “Maybe we should give the kids a moment to recover.” “Soos,” Mabel broke the silence, “please come sit with us; it would make us feel better. It would at least make me feel better knowing that everyone is here.” “Okay, guys,” Wendy shouted in an almost den mother quality voice, “Everyone on the porch. Dr. Funtimes needs our good vibes.” So everyone gathered on the small, crowed porch and watched the rain pick up. There were jokes shouted, laughter, and the ever present hum of the ice machine behind them, among the pattering of rain. Wendy sat next to Pacifica, who was still clutching a now exhausted Dipper despite how much her arms began to hurt. She leaned closer to Pacifica. “Hey,” Wendy whispered, “You know you can let go of him, right? It looks like he fell asleep on you.” Pacifica looked down and saw that dipper had fallen asleep. She laid him down on the top step, took her jacket off, folded it, and put it under his head as a pillow. “He's a good guy, albeit one that overthinks things. Just be careful with him; he's obviously been through a lot. And don't get so hung up on him, or any guy for that matter; it ain't healthy for you.” Pacifica didn't know what to say to Wendy, or how to even remotely approach her, beyond giving her an understanding smile. Wendy was yet another carefree spirit Pacifica could not help but envy. There was also something inspirational about her. After a few jokes, Mabel's spirit finally picked back up. “Alright, everyone!” she shouted, “We're watching the sunrise! It's only a few minutes away.” So everyone stayed a little longer to watch what both Dipper and Pacifica thought might be the final sunrise. While they looked out over the now clear skies, waiting for the world to end, the original mystery twins, the two Stans, came from the door. Stanford pulled out two rocking chairs onto the porch behind the kids, while Stanley brought the journals and his laser rifle. The two sat in silence while the kids continued to joke around, Stanley polishing his rifle like an old frontiersman preparing for a hunt. It reminded them of when they were kids on their old swing set, watching the sun rise over the waters. When the sun finally rose, they realized something Stanley already knew, that the world was not about to end now and that the nexus of the crisis lay elsewhere. Off in the distance, something captured the groups attention. A small person was now moving out of the forest towards the cabin. “Who is that?” asked Lee. “Oh, no,” said Mabel, “it couldn't be.” “Gideon?” Dipper asked rhetorically, fully waking up. “That weird charlatan psychic kid on TV?” Pacifica asked, “What's wrong with his eyes?” As he drew closer, the group started up from their places in horror, as they could see that his eyes had rolled back in his head and that he was hovering three feet off the ground and had been the moment they had seen him. What mainly disturbed the teens was that they had thought they had seen him there when they first arrived, meaning his dead, lifeless eyes had been watching them through the night. Category:Fan-Fiction